In Limbo
by MrsBigTuna
Summary: We all know what happened to Ellie when Craig went off to rehab. But what happened to him? Here's my take through his treatment and the aftermath, through "Degrassi Goes Hollywood" and beyond.
1. Nowhere To Hide

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi. Never have, never will. **_

_Summary: We all know what happened to Ellie when Craig went off to rehab. But what happened to him? Here's my take through his treatment and the aftermath, through "Degrassi Goes Hollywood" and beyond. CraigxEllie_

_A/N: I have several stories in mind for this couple, but I needed to do this after seeing "What's It Like Being a Ghost, Pt. 2" for the umpteenth time. We only got little snippets of Craig's journey and I wanted to explore that more, since he rarely gets the perspective. This is borne out of many late nights working overnight with nothing else to do, since the homework was finished. As always, please read, review, and enjoy!_

"**In Limbo"**

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><p>The back of his throat burned, as if a fresh coat of the powdery substance slid down it, causing him to heave slightly. He felt ill, a weight of pressure on his chest pounded heavily, unrelenting. He knew he was having a panic attack, that's what Marco always described he had whenever something was out of order, too overwhelming or when he thought he was going to fail an exam. Craig rubbed his hands together, the sweat collecting between his fingers and he grasped the seat belt. He looked up the safety sign, waiting for it ring its bell so that he was allowed to leave the seat, but the plane had barely left the ground. After a few moments, the bell finally sounded, and he rocketed toward the bathroom, shutting the down tight.<p>

He spun around, seeing his reflection in the massive mirror, extending the length of the small room. He touched his face, before leaning his forehead on the glass, meeting his identical twin, pleading for the support he neglected on the other side. He resisted the urge to vomit, knowing that it would only weaken him more. He sat down on the toilet, attempting to catch his breath, but it only made him more nauseous. He covered his mouth, his lips quivering until he closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing. After a few moments, he opened them, placing his hands on his knees and rocking back and forth, trying to grasp the situation at hand. He was on a plane. He was heading to Calgary to meet Joey and going to rehab, not knowing if he would ever be able to see any of his friends again. But it was her face, her teary eyes matching his own that kept his hands shaking. He had only seen her moments ago, touched her face and spoke the words he had longed to have the courage to recite ages ago. And like everything else in his life, it was short-lived, moving on to the ever-present failure his life was supported by.

_Knock, knock._ "Hey, are you almost finished in there?"

"Uh, yeah. Just a sec." Craig ripped a large amount of tissue, wiping his face. He let himself look at the mirror again, afraid to see its view. He saw the paleness of his skin, the small blue veins that traveled through his cheeks and forehead, supplying the blood that coursed through his body. But more than anything, he saw a broken man, a shell of someone he used to know. It had been a long time since he recognized himself in the mirror, knowing that the only man he saw looking back was a stranger. He closed his eyes again, hoping to dig deep inside and try to salvage whatever was left, but nothing came. Only regret. He exhaled deeply, opening the door swiftly and pushing his way back to his seat, facing the window. He let his mind drift, hoping that he could settle on something tame, something that wouldn't lead him to the two things that plagued him all morning. Ellie and coke.

"Can I get you anything to drink, hon?"

Craig was startled, looking up at the smiling face with the winged broach on her collar. "Huh?"

"Beverage?" She smiled wider. "You look a little pale." She handed him a bottle of water, patting his shoulder. "Not everyone is good at flying." She looked at her other steward before passing him a bag of pretzels. "Eat something, sweetheart."

Craig nodded and smiled. "Thank you." He opened the bag, shoving the contents into his mouth. He had forgotten to eat that morning, with the added nausea and humiliation of the past weekend, he was nearly more excited to be leaving Toronto than being with Ellie in the car ride to the airport. He turned back to the window, watching the passing lands below, wondering how long would it be before he was met again with his family. He hadn't seen Joey in months and the fear of seeing his face in the circumstances of their meeting pulled down on Craig's stomach. But instead, he stuffed more pretzels in his mouth, followed by a remainder of his water. He was thinking of hailing the friendly steward, but he remained seated, concentrating on the rocky mountains below, with each peak and descent rolling over one another. He knew he had his own mountain to climb, reaching its summit would take everything he had, but with the lack of prospects or spoils, he only wanted to get off the plane and feel something underneath him.

* * *

><p>He slid on his shades, his armor against the sun rays and others' judgmental eyes, walking through the concourse until he recognized the shining head of his stepfather, looking beguiled with his hands in his pocket. Craig knew this welcome wouldn't be welcoming, but he was still surprised when Joey's arms wrapped around him, engulfing the shame that drenched his weary bones. They held each other for a time until Craig pulled away, wanting to look at him. "Hey."<p>

"Hey." They both were silent, trying to obtain the easy rapport that always flowed between the two. They hadn't been this quiet with one another since after Craig's breakdown two years prior. Instead, Craig cleared his throat. "Where's Angie?"

"She's at a friend's house." He took Craig's bag from his hand, looking him over before chuckling. "You look like crap."

"Thanks."

"I mean it. You look like shit, Craig." He sighed, rubbing his head. "I just wish -" He looked around, not wanting to create a scene, shaking his head. "I'm just glad you're home." He grabbed his shoulder, guiding him to the parking lot. "Come on."

As they walked to the car, Craig felt a wedge between the two, hoping to change the subject. "So, how's Angie?"

"She doing great. She's liking the new school a lot. Less kids, but she's getting the attention she needs. She's even doing better with her math."

"That's great." They were on the road now, passing strip malls and hotels, getting closer to the expressway, before Craig cleared his throat. "Has she asked about me? Is she excited to see me?"

"Craig..."

"What?" There was a silence, unlike before, with an awkwardness that suffocated the both of them. "You didn't tell her I was coming home, did you?"

"No."

"So we're surprising her? That's cool. What time are we picking her up from her friend's house?"

"Craig..." Joey glanced at Craig, amazed by his childlike behavior. "We're not going home. I'm taking you to the rehab clinic right now."

"What?"

"You have to understand. Even with a few days at home, it's too much temptation to have you like this, at home, with Angie around. I don't want her to see you like this. Do you want to have her see you like this?"

"Why can't I just stay with you guys for the weekend and go to rehab on Monday?"

Joey shook his head. "Craig, you need help right now. It's better if we go -"

"But I want to see Angie. Come on, Joey. Please. I need to see-"

"I don't want you to see my daughter!" He pulled the car over to the shoulder, turning the car off. "Craig, look. I love you. You know that. You're as much as my son as Angie is my daughter. But I can't. I can't have Angie with you like this. I don't want to expose her to this." He gripped the steering wheel, leaning his head on it. "It's best for everyone for you to get to this place as soon as possible." He reached over the partition, grasping his hand. "I just want you to get better, and the faster, the better. You can understand that, right?"

Craig looked straight ahead, doing his best to process what was happening. He knew that Joey was right, that he was in no condition to be around his nine-year-old, impressionable younger sister. But the idea of seeing her face, knowing that she loved him, even if no one else did, kept him going. She was all he had for so long and not being able to see her because of his problems again only made this entire situation that much worse. Craig didn't respond to Joey's gentle affection, only leaning further back in the seat. "Just get me there, okay?"

Joey nodded, pulling the car back onto the road. They were fifty miles from the facility, which was only thirty miles away from Joey's house. He kept the car filled with his many facts that he studied of the place from their website, rattling them off in hope it would put Craig at ease. "And they have a garden on the premises for the patients. You know, like if you can keep your plant alive, you can function and try to take care of yourself the same way."

"Yeah."

"Yeah, and it's got so many other great things too. They have a small lake too, so the patients can swim and fish and canoe. It's got so many amenities. Hell, it might feel like summer camp."

"I really don't think so."

"Yeah, maybe you're right. I just..." He offered Craig a smile, hoping it would be reciprocated. "I just want the best for you, I always have."

Craig bit the bait, giving him a smile in return. "I know." He scratched his arm, the small sensation of withdraws began shortly after his third bag of pretzels on the plane. He had been doing his best to ignore them, but he had been in the car for over an hour, and the nausea was starting up again. "Could you pull over?"

Joey noticed his complexion was a green hue, pulling over at once. He watched as Craig jumped out and ran into the grassy mound, hurling until he was dry heaving. After a few moments, he walked back into the car, wiping his mouth. "Sorry."

"I have some baby wipes behind your seat, I think." He shrugged. "You have that sort of stuff in the car when you have a kid around."

"Thanks." Craig grabbed the box, wiping his mouth again. He could feel the burning taste in this throat again, like that morning. It reminded him of the drip that always followed a coke snort, the way it slid down his throat and burn in a way that he could never fully describe. He hated it the first time he did it, thinking it was a horrible way to get high, but after a few minutes, when the drug took over his senses, he knew there wasn't any other way to live. He pulled his knees to his chest, itching to have one taste, just one, so he could get through the rest of the trip without getting sick. "Could we stop to get something to eat?"

"Yeah, of course." Joey noticed a Harvey's coming up on the next exit. "We can get another orange tray if you want."

"Yeah, sure." Craig figured there must be someone nearby that must have something in or around the store. He just had to ask the right person. When they pulled up, he spotted someone near the entrance, thinking of a way to get his attention. They walked up to the door, Craig meeting eyes with the guy, before giving him a head bud.

"I'm gonna go wash my hands, but you can go order if you want. I want to #3."

"Okay." Once Joey went toward the back, Craig ran outside, relieved to find the guy. "Hey man." Craig pulled out a cigarette from his pocket, the last one he had on him. He never really smoked, but he found it easier to talk to shady characters with one on him, giving them common ground. "You got a light?"

"Yeah." The man retrieved a lighter from his shirt pocket, lighting it for Craig. "Here."

"Thanks." Craig inhaled slightly, not letting it get too deep before exhaling. "Hey, um, I'm on the road here, but I was wondering if you knew where I could get some stuff."

"Whatcha talking about?"

"You know... stuff."

The man rolled his eyes. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, dude. But if I did, I wouldn't be going around asking people in the middle of broad daylight."

"Yeah, so I should ask about shady dealings in the middle of the night, on some creepy street corner and get picked up by the police because that's not the obvious choice."

The man chuckled. "You're a smartass, huh?"

"Rather be that than a dumbass."

"Fair enough." He dug inside his pocket, patting it. "How much you got?"

Craig spit his fingertips, wrapping the end of his cigarette and placing it behind his ear. "I got fifty, but it's all I got in the world. I'm on my way to rehab right now and I need a little something to help the orientation go smoothly."

"Hm, I don't really think anything could make that better." He chuckled again before beckoning him near the dumpsters. "Look, make this quick." He handed him a small bag and Craig handed him his bill. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"Yeah, you too." He peaked into the restaurant, noticing Joey looking for him. He pulled his cigarette from behind his ear, pretending to smoke it. He waved at Joey, doing the same spitting and twisting before putting the remainder in his pocket. "Sorry, I needed a smoke."

"You smoke now? I thought that was bad for singers."

He felt the small rock of coke in his pocket, giving him more pleasure than he had felt in the last 24 hours. "I've been doing a lot of things that aren't good for singers lately."

Joey didn't react, only munching on his burger. "We're only about ten miles away, so we should be there in the next few minutes." He wiped his mouth, watching Craig pick at his food. "I didn't know what to order you."

"It's fine." He felt his new best friend burning a hole in his pocket, itching to feel the burn again. "I think I need to use the bathroom." He jumped up, dashing for the stalls. He locked the entrance, walking over to the sink and pulling out the stash. He spilled a little of it on his arm, trying to grind and spread it into a few rows. He knew it wasn't worth the price, getting better quality for much less, but he wasn't in any condition to bargain, appeased to get what he could. Inhaling the three rows in close succession, he felt the familiar drip, welcoming it like an old friend. He closed his eyes, taking in the subtle high and holding onto it for as long as he could, knowing it would be his last. He looked up at his reflection than, white powder spread across his arm and upper lip, watching a single tear flow down his cheek. He loathed what he saw, knowing that he was trapped inside this figure before him. He slid down the wall, rubbing off the residue from his arm and holding himself until he heard a knocking at the door. "Be right out!"

"Craig, it's me. We need to get going. You have to be there at seven."

"Okay, be right there." He pulled himself up, washing off his face and reminded of his previous state in the airplane bathroom, feeling just as small, but not nearly as high.

* * *

><p>The rehabilitation center grounds were picturesque as they rolled up to the gates. Trees were plentiful as they passed, a tranquil setting for their patients was obvious, but it only made Craig claustrophobic, surrounded by all the barriers, making an escape nearly impossible. He imagined what he would do if he did escape, where he would go. But deep down, he knew he needed to face whatever demon lied inside himself, destroying him. He was coming down from his high, not saying much to Joey in the last stretch of the ride, not wanting to lead on that something transpired in Harvey's. Once the car stopped at the front door, Joey turned to Craig.<p>

"It's gonna be okay."

"How do you know?" Craig crossed his arms, looking at the daunting building aside them. "How do you know I won't screw this up like everything else?"

"Because I know you really want this. Because deep down, you want to be back to that bright eyed kid that left me back in Toronto, wishing for a life of stardom and fame." He patted his shoulder, giving him a smile. "You just got strayed away from that. You can have it back, all of it. You just need to get through this, reclaim your life again." He sniffled, brushing a stray tear away. "I believe in you, anyway."

Craig nodded, taking his hand. "Thanks."

They walked into the lobby, being greeted by a large, heavyset woman behind a desk, looking curious, but friendly. "Can I help you?"

Joey walked up, handing him some papers. "We're here to check in Craig Manning."

"Oh, of course. We've been waiting for you. Dr. Davenport will be with you in a moment. If you could just precede into the reception area." She offered a smile, before pointing down the hall.

Joey and Craig obeyed, taking seats adjacent to each other. Craig fiddled with his zipped on his duffel bag, not looking anywhere else until Joey reached for his hand. He gave it a squeeze, returning the favor until a lean gentleman walked through the large swinging doors. "Craig, great to see you." He made direct eye contact with Craig, extending his hand, smiling. He turned to Joey with an even larger smile. "And you must be Mr. Jeremiah. It's so great to have you both here." He beckoned them to follow, passing by a cluster of patients gathered in common area, before entering an office at the end of the corridor.

After offering them seats, he smiled again. "First, I want to welcome you both to Pinewood Rehabilitation Center. This is a safe environment for all, but we specialize in drug abuse and rehabilitation. We are so happy that you've chosen us to help you through this difficult time in your life." He opened up a file, scanning its contents, looking back at Craig every few moments. "I see here this isn't your first time getting clinical help. Well, at any rate, I want to welcome you here and hope that over the next few months, you will be able to call this place more than just a rehab, but a home and a safe place for you to talk to either me or any of our very talented staff members about anything and everything that might be troubling you. We are only here to help."

He smiled again, leaving Craig slightly unsettled. He didn't trust the way he kept smiling, as if they were going to execute him at any moment if he didn't oblige the same respect. He glanced around the room, which was white on top of white, even the diplomas on the wall were white, with white frames. He wiggled in his seat, trying to concentrate on what the doctor was saying to Joey, but it was overwhelmed by the hunger for more coke. He couldn't ignore the itching, crawling up his arms and legs, shaking his tenets and triggering tremors on his fingers.

"So, I think we're all done here for the moment. One of our orderlies will escort Craig to his dormitory where he can settle his belongings before his checkup." He stood up than, signaling for Joey and Craig to do the same. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Jeremiah." He shook his hand, looking back at Craig, who seemed oblivious to the exchange. "Craig, I look forward to becoming a better acquaintance. I just want to reestablish that this is not a volunteer clinic, that once you have been committed, you can not check out until we see fit for you to be rejoined into society."

Craig looked at Joey, only hearing this for the first time but knowing that he needed to do this for him, for Angie and for Ellie, the only people that he really wanted to stay in his life. "I understand." He shook his hand before grabbing his duffel bag, opening the office door and walking down the hall, followed by Joey.

When they reached the end, Craig turned to Joey and dropped his bag, enveloping his stepfather in his arms. "I'll see you soon."

"Yes you will." He held him tighter, letting another tear fall. "I love you, Craig. I know it doesn't seem like it now, but I do. You're gonna get through this and I'm here whenever you need me. Just call. Okay?"

"Okay." They held each other for a moment longer until Craig noticed the orderly, letting go. "See you."

"See you, Craig." Joey waved, walking into the early evening and disappearing into the night.

* * *

><p>Craig looked around the small room that two beds, two separate desks, one including a new composition notebook and two reading chairs in opposite corners. He threw down his bag on the untouched bed, noticing books on the other, lived-in side. He studied the titles, seeing several authors that he enjoyed and others he didn't know. He sat quickly, looking at the sun descending into the horizon, wondering if he should be doing something else. He was startled when the door swung open to a woman with a clipboard. "Manning comma Craig." She smiled, checking off his name. "Follow me, dear. You need to take your checkup before lights out."<p>

He shook slightly at the nomenclature, thinking of prison movies he had watched growing up, thinking of prisoners breaking out through man-made holes in their cells. "Okay." He followed the woman, passing by another group of patients, this time outside a large meeting room. They stopped near the other end of the building, where their infirmary was. As they walked into the first room, the nurse pulled the partition sheet between them. "Please remove all clothing and place them on the table beside you. That includes socks and underpants. The doctor will be with you momentarily."

After a few chilly moments, the doctor arrived briskly, yanking the clipboard from the end of the bed. "Hello, Craig. I'm Dr. Young." He scanned his physique, nodding. "You look like you need to eat." He chuckled. "I'm afraid you missed dinner, but I'm sure we can scrounge you up something from the kitchen in a bit." He pulled on some vinyl gloves and patted Craig's shoulder. "Now son, can you please spread your legs and when I say, cough."

Craig walked back to his dormitory, feeling violated and slightly disoriented after his checkup, knowing the doctor knew he used only an hour before. Their eyes met for a moment when he took his blood pressure, certain that he was already disappointed with him, but he promised Craig that he would have someone send some food for him very soon. He entered his room, noticing someone was already there, wearing headphones. He was greeted to a warm glow to the room, provided by the desk lamp. He felt like he was intruding, but he continued to walk to his bed when the other guest looked up. "Um, hi."

He removed his headphones, nodding. "How's it going?"

"Fine." He sat down, immediately jumping back up. He attempted again, more gently and laid down.

"Anal examination, eh?" The other roommate chuckled. "You must be here for drugs, huh?"

"Yeah, you?"

"Drugs and alcohol. And a bunch of other shit." He extended his hand. "Michael. But everyone calls me Mikey." He shrugged. "We have four other Michaels here, so I got stuck with Mikey. There's also Mike and Mickey. And of course Michael. But Michael's a douche."

"Okay." Craig laid on his back, trying to ignore the tenderness of his buttocks. "How long have you've been here?"

"Almost two months. But this is my third stint."

"Wow, really?"

"Yeah, well, I'm what that they call '(technical term)'. I don't know, I just like getting high."

"Yeah, me too. And look where it got me."

Mikey turned completely around, facing Craig. "What's your story?"

Craig sat up slightly, wincing at his pain. "I, uh, I'm a musician. Or _was_ one. I had a record deal and all that stuff for a while. And than I fucked it all up by doing drugs and I lost the respect of my friends, family and other musicians. And now I'm stuck here."

"Isn't that kinda the whole idea of being a rockstar? Getting blitzed out and winding up in places like this? You know, for the whole 'inspiration' bullshit you guys always rave about. 'Expanding your mind' and shit."

"Yeah, I guess. I just didn't want that." He sat up completely than, thinking about what he actually wanted for the first time in what seemed like months. He had forgotten what brought him to Vancouver, what made him want to play. He didn't want to be the butt end to the joke anymore, the same clichéd musician with the same old problems. He wanted to make music for music's sake, sharing his songs with the world because he wanted to, not to overcompensate for other shortcomings. But the more he thought about it, the more it seemed it had become that. "I don't know, man."

"Well, if it's any consolation, no one really does." He turned around, putting on his headphones again. "That's why we're here. We don't know shit."

The door knocked, entering another orderly with a tray of food wrapped in cellophane. "Sorry it took so long." He nodded before leaving.

Craig pulled the wrap away, looking at the fried chicken, potatoes and broccoli on his plate with a slice of apple pie. It all looked like rubber. "Yum."

"Bon appetite!" Mikey chuckled. "Did they give you a side of a big cheesy smile?"

"You noticed that too?"

"Yeah, man. It's fucking creepy. They'll fucking drown you with all the smiling."

"Yeesh." Craig nibbled at his chicken thigh, enjoying it more than he thought he would. "Not bad."

"No, it's probably the only thing that's legit, the food." He put his headphones back on, leaving Craig to it.

As Craig continued to chew, he wondered what Ellie was up to at the very moment. Was she eating alone or with Jesse? Or Marco? Or eating at all. He drank his water and hoped wherever she was, she was safe and okay, away from him and his issues. He had given her enough grief to last her a lifetime. If nothing else, being here would keep him from her, which was a mixed blessing. He just hoped he took advantage and not let it go to waste.

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><p><em>More to come...<em>


	2. Trap Doors That Open

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Degrassi. Not at all. **_

_A/N: Thanks for the reviews! I hope to continue this story at this pace. As always, please read, review, and enjoy!_

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><p>The tile floor stretched on forever, as the whispers lurked in the shadows, growing more raspy and distorted. Footstep falls could be heard but their origin stood still in the night. The glass windows shook from the windy exterior but only the branches held no motion. The rows of empty seats lined the middle of the room, but only her small frame could be recognized. Her red hair shined brightly in the dark, textures of her tendrils seemed to flow as she walked toward him, her heels clicking with every step. Craig took a deep breath before she finally reached him, his hand trying to get there first. "What took you so long?"<p>

"This isn't exactly close." Ellie crossed her arms, her patented cynical smirk etched on her face. "Why did you bring me here?"

"Because I want to make this right." He reached for her cheek, softly stroking it, watching her eyes close. "I love you. I've wanted to say that for a long time, and I mean that." He drew her closer, whispering in her ear. "I've always loved you."

Ellie opened her eyes, the corners of her mouth drooping. "You know this isn't real."

Craig pulled away, the moment lost. "I know."

"Than why are you doing this?"

"Because..." He leaned forward again, kissing her softly on her forehead. "I want to remember saying it to you, even if it wasn't what really happened. I want to remember you like this. I want to get the goodbye that we deserve."

Ellie pulled back than. "No, you want the goodbye you _think_ you deserve." She rubbed away her kiss, crossing her arms. "What happened happened for a reason. You don't get a do over. You screwed up, and these are the consequences."

"But I want to make things right."

"Than make things right out there." She looked out of the windows, past the darks shadows of Craig's subconscious and into the harrowing moon above. "You can't really have me here. I'm not real. You're not real. This isn't real."

"But can it be?"

"You just have to find out, don't you?"

Craig stepped away, mirroring her crossed arms. "Tell me you love me."

"No."

"Please. Just once."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I don't." And as mysteriously and suddenly as she appeared, she was gone.

* * *

><p>Craig gasped from a deep sleep, panting as the cold sweat slid down his back and forehead. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, vibrating off the walls while his roommate snored obliviously across the room. Placing his bare feet on the floor, he was shocked back to reality again, past the empty corridors of the airport, away from the red-headed woman that tainted his dreams and still suffocated by the guilt that pumped through his veins.<p>

He left his room, entering the shared bathroom, adjacent to another bedroom, before turning on the light. He splashed a handful of water on his face, trying to calm the chills. He had only recently been allowed to stay in his room, being transferred from a different ward, closer to the infirmary due to his intense withdraws. He had lost all control of his bladder, vomiting every four hours and eventually on an IV for several days. He had been at Pinewood for two weeks and had little interaction with the other patients, having his first group meeting that previous evening before dinner.

He had met several other recovery drug addicts, including three cocaine addicts. Their stories were similar to his own, most of them filled with regret and loss, confusion and hysteria, agony and alienation. One girl in particular, hid behind her dark brown veil of hair and spoke of her lowest point, having her younger sister walking into the room while she did a shot of heroin with her boyfriend. The image of Angie's face raced past Craig's at that moment, relieved that she was far away.

Clicking off the light, he noticed that Mikey was sitting up, rubbing his eyes. "You okay, man?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, I'm fine." They hadn't made much of an impression on each other, belonging to two different groups, so they rarely saw one another. "Thanks."

Mikey clicked on the nearby lamp, pulling his blanket closer. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Craig chuckled. "Something like that." He scratched his head, sending his curls into a frenzy. "Just had a weird dream."

"Lemme guess. It has something to do with a girl."

"Isn't it always?"

"Of course." He mockingly put his hands under his chin, batting his eyes. "So, what's she like?"

Craig snorted as he mirrored Mikey's position in bed, leaning on the wall with his blanket near his chin. "She's funny. And smart. And beautiful." He turned to the lamp, looking into the light and seeing spots of red in the corner of his eyes. "But I never really saw that at first, the beauty part. I don't know, I just..." He tried to put all the things he felt for Ellie into words, but he couldn't seem to understand where he stood in his own feelings. "She was the best friend I ever had. Ever could have. She didn't judge my shortcomings or problems. She has them too." He closed his eyes, picturing her smiling face, bouncing along to his song in her living room, before everything went to shit. "She gets me."

"Real original." Mikey rolled his eyes, losing interest and turning away from Craig.

Craig continued, not caring if Mikey listened. "She's the funniest girl I've ever met. She's so cynical, but she has this way of making anything into an anecdote. She doesn't laugh, she snorts. She doesn't smile, she smirks. She's just... so cool."

Mikey scoffed, sitting up again and pushing his blanket to his knees. "So what the fuck happened?"

"I chose the prettier girl."

"Did she have bigger tits?"

Craig considered it for a moment, nodding but with no verbal response. "But it wasn't the reason why I chose her."

"I can see where this is going..."

"Well than. I guess I don't need to say anymore."

"Yeah." Mikey flipped the light out, tucking himself deeper into his bed. He turned toward Craig, shaking his head. "I just hope you figure out what you want by the time you get out of here."

"Yeah, me too."

* * *

><p>The early morning sun drenched the walls of their small room as patients began to roam the halls, heading to the cafeteria for breakfast. Craig hadn't had to join them during his stay thus far, having his breakfast brought to him due to his weakness, but this was his first morning joining Mikey. He was slightly excited, if only to get more company than his four walls and meeting members from last night. The sunlight poured through the hallways, giving Craig the confidence to resemble a smile on his hardened face. He liked to think of himself as a night owl, always getting the best work in the weest hours of the night, but the light that touched the corners of the glass fortress allowed him hope.<p>

He felt a shoulder nudge him, seeing a much shorter Mikey passing him. "Smart up, buddy. If you don't get there fast, all the biscuits will be gone."

Craig nodded, hands in his pockets as he followed the cattle to the end of the corridor and down three flights of stairs. The crowd was massive, slightly overwhelming to find so many more patients than he imagined. He found Mikey near the head of the line, munching on a straw when he beckoned Craig to join him.

"Took you long enough." He patted him on the back. "These are a few reluctant tenants." He pointed to the small group surrounding him. "They're a bunch of nerds, quite frankly."

"Whatever, man. I'm not the one who can quote _Futurama_ on command." The taller man grabbed a tray, pointing to pan filled of eggs.

"Jealous, much?" Mikey took a tray as well, pointing to the same tray and nodding. "They have the best eggs here. Not too runny, not overcooked. Nice and fluffy."

"Nice." Craig followed in the same fashion, looking at the other choices and feeling nauseous. He hadn't been able to handle the food that was brought to him in the small room, but he fought the urge to vomit back, trying to find a place to belong. "Uh, can I have some sausage links?"

He found Mikey at a table near the windows, already in the mist of a serious discussion, looking very involved. Craig pulled out his chair, not realizing he bumped a chair behind him. "Oh, sorry." He turned to find the dark-haired girl from the meeting last night, looking surprised. "Oh, hi."

"Hi." She tucked her hair behind her ear, looking timid. "I thought you didn't come down here."

"Yeah, it's my first time." He offered the chair next to his own, watching her join him. "I'm Craig, by the way."

"Cassandra. But everyone calls me Cassie." She offered a smile, before digging into her food. After a few silent minutes as they ate, Cassie turned to Craig again. "You didn't talk much last night."

"Yeah, I was just auditing. You know, trying to see the vibe in the room."

"Right." Cassie didn't seem impressed by the answer, drinking more orange juice. "So, what was your observation?"

"The doctors seem friendly enough. They smile a lot."

"Yeah, that's so we don't feel intimidation. That we can feel safe around them." She shook her head, shoving another helping of eggs into her mouth. "It does more harm than good, if you ask me."

"Yeah, it just creeps me out." Craig pushed his eggs and sausage around his plate, wishing he could find the appetite he knew that lied underneath the tension. "I thought it would be a little less..."

"Phony?" She scoffed, reaching for another napkin. "It gets less annoying after a while. They just want you to feel comfortable. But once you get past the smiles, they actually have something decent to say. As long as you're willing to listen."

Craig had stopped attempting to eat, watching her instead. "How long have you been here?"

Cassie shrugged. "A few weeks, but I've been to other places. Far worse than this." She didn't elaborate, but Craig could see tension in her shoulders, as if images of the depths of her memories crept behind her. "Anyway, at least the food is good, right?"

"Yeah, Mikey's told me about the food. It's the only thing they do right."

"I don't think that's true." She wiped her mouth, pushing her tray away. "But it's easy to see why he would say that."

"How?"

"He has no other place to go." She turned, making sure they were enough away from the group at the other end of the table to be overheard. "Rumor has it he keeps coming back here because it's the only place that will take him. He's gotten kicked out of all the others in the province. But Pinewood keeps taking him back." She stood up, shrugging. "I guess it means a lot to be accepted for some people, no matter where that might be." She gave Craig a slight nod, squeezing past the other chairs and dumping her trash. She walked past a few others, disappearing into the distant halls.

Craig watched her before she vanished, noticing that Mikey and his disciples were calling him over. "Hey."

"Talking it up with Cassie, eh?" He patted an empty chair, looking curious. "She"s pretty hot."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Oh, that's right. You're lovelorn. Can't look at another girl without thinking of the one you lost." Mikey and the others laughed, sending Craig's blood pressure to a dangerous level. "Look, kid. Wherever that girl's at, she's not thinking about you. And if she is, she's doing her best not to. Let her go. You're damaged goods as far as she's concerned." He patted Craig on the back. "Besides, like the old saying goes, 'there's always more fish in the sea.'"

"Yeah." Craig absently shoved a helping of eggs in his mouth, thinking of Ellie again. He did his best to not think of her, but with every corner, he noticed something that would bring her back up to the surface. She was the very reason why he was here in the first place, so he knew it wouldn't stop, the dreams, the fantasies, the longing. He stood up than, giving the table a wave. "I'd better get ready for my therapy session."

"Okay, man. See you later." Mikey didn't look up at him, continuing to look at another member of the table, not making another glance.

Craig halfhearted thought about trying to find Cassie, thinking that she was the first person there that didn't seem annoyed by his simple presence. Instead, he walked past the library that was on the premises, seeing the stacks and carts of books, looking alluring. He had debated to skim the binds, but he continued down the hall, looking for his doctor's office. Finally arriving, he knocked until he heard a an answer. "Hi, Dr. Taylor."

"Craig, good to see you." She met him at the other side of her desk, offering her couch as she closed the door. "Take a seat." Once she reached her desk again, she took a seat herself and skimmed his file. "So, Craig. How do you feel today?"

"Anxious." He hadn't meant to be so blunt, but it was the only word that could explain his mannerisms that morning. He wasn't sure what to expect from minute to minute. Everything seemed so fresh and different, surprising himself that a rehabilitation center could be more than just a hospital. He was beginning to feel more like being in high school slowly but surely. "I feel like I didn't study for an exam and I'm gonna fail."

"Well, that's typical. You see this place as some sort of institution, filled of tests, exams, that test your knowledge or your limits and that if you don't meet the expectations or your own, which can be even higher, than you've somehow lost." She offered a genuine smile, the first he had seen during his stay at Pinewood. "I can tell you in full confidence that we are going to do our best here to make sure you not only pass these 'exams', but excel. You have all the power, as long as you know how to use it, you'll do great."

Craig nodded, leaning back further into the couch. "Thanks."

"Of course." Dr. Taylor pushed her glasses higher on the bridge of her nose. "Now, when was the last time you used?"

Craig closed his eyes, the image of his arm covered in the white power in a dirty bathroom, his torn jeans and nose rubbed in as well. "Two weeks ago."

"And when was the last time you had a withdraw?"

"Five minutes ago." He chuckled. "I think I might be having one now, but I can't tell." He rubbed his arm, feeling his skin crawl slightly. "I've been feeling like this for so long, I can't tell anymore."

"Yes, well your nerves are raw from the constant irritation, so you will still have the intense sensation of phantom usage for a few more weeks." She walked around her desk, perching on the edge. "What we are going to do over the course of the next few weeks is try to get to the root of why you used to begin with. We will start you off with several sessions of hypnotism, starting tomorrow, at least four times a week."

Craig nodded, closing his eyes. "Okay."

"After that, we will have more intense psychoanalytical sessions, involving your composition book. I, of course, won't read it, for anything in there is for your eyes and your eyes only. But if I will ask for certain entries, topics that we discuss here and elaborate on that." She flipped through his file again, looking over something more closely. "How are you handling your medication?"

"I've been off the IV for a few days, so I'm doing okay."

"No, I meant your medication for your bipolar disorder."

"Oh." He hadn't been asked to discuss that yet, always being highly protective of that characteristic of himself. "Fine. I've been taking it as prescribed."

"And you haven't had any bad reaction to them since being here?"

"I... I don't know." He hadn't thought about the reaction to them and the cocaine before, being so attached to his three pills that he had been on for the past two years. They were so much a part of who he was that he never accounted for them to have a different effect. "I don't think so."

"I see." She jotted a few notes before meeting his eye line again. "Did you stop taking your medication when you were using?"

"Yes." He didn't take them for three weeks when he toured earlier that year. He had forgotten to get another prescription before leaving. The stint didn't do much harm, but once he was back in Vancouver, he went back to the pills, without discussion.

"Mmhmm." She wrote more, nodding. "This is actually the first time you've been willing to talk to me." She chuckled. "What changed your mind?"

He thought about Cassie, her long brown hair and how she covered her face like a curtain. He thought about the emptiness and helplessness of Mikey and how he denied to find refuge inside these fortress walls. He thought about Joey and how he held him in their exchange. He had written him twice during his stay and kept his letters by his bed. Lastly, he thought of her, like always, and remembered her final words. "You need help." Craig shrugged, moving into a more comfortable position on the couch. "I need help."

Dr. Taylor smiled again, moving to a chair across from the couch to be closer to him. "Thank you, Craig. This pleases me greatly." She reached out and touched his knee, before putting her glasses higher on her nose. "Okay, than. I guess we should start off with the obvious question: when did you start using?"

Craig leaned back further into the couch, closing his eyes. "I, uh, I was with a band I hadn't played with before. They were new to the label and we were doing a set at this bar in Vancouver. I was coming back from a soundcheck when I saw them in the dressing room."

He took a deep breath, thinking back on the moment, when he saw the members crowded around the table, hunched over and laughing. They turned to the door when he entered, beckoning him to join them. Craig walked in, smiling. He didn't see what was on the table, taking a seat with his guitar.

"I asked them if they were ready for the set. It was an important show for them, me too. We were going to be performing in front of the most important music people in the city. Producers, video directors, and some prominent disc jockeys in the area. It was getting a lot of publicity and even a few music magazines editors were there. Tension was high, so I was really nervous. I used to smoke pot a lot back than, but the high took a long time since my medication halted it."

He pictured the setting again, the other band opening their huddle to reveal their stash. "They told me that it would get me high quicker than pot ever could and wouldn't last as long, which was what I was searching for. I just wanted to be high long enough for me to get through the set without getting nervous. I figured I'd do it the one time and that would be it." He watched himself in his mind's eye crouching over to the table, seeing the line of coke there, shaped in some kind of demonic smile, as if it was signaling his downfall.

"It only took me a minute or two to get the full effect." He could almost taste the first drip back, when it slid down his throat and burned it. "It tasted awful. I thought I had made a mistake, trying to cough it back up, but it was too late. The more I coughed, the higher I got. Before long, I couldn't feel my hands. It took over everything, like I was numb. But at the same time, it was like I was flying. I couldn't feel anything, couldn't touch anything. And than I jumped up, grabbed my guitar and started strumming it pretty vigorously. The other band started clapping their hands, laughing at me. We were all pretty giddy, and than after about twenty minutes, I was called to the stage."

Dr. Taylor had been writing during his story, looking up periodically. After a moment, she looked up again. "What made you come back for more?"

"The numbness."

"Not the high?"

"The high was great. I mean, the best I ever had. But it was right before the high. That moment when you can't remember what you were doing there, that moment when you can't think of anything else, complete clarity. It's comes and goes quickly, more fast with each time you use, but when you feel it, it's like... euphoria. You feel like God."

"And you think God feels nothing?"

"How could he feel everything? No one can feel everything, even him. So, the only thing is to feel nothing. And that's what it's like. Everything that's ever hurt you, everything that you can still feel, for a few seconds, you don't feel at all. You forget what anything feels like: hate, love, fear, pain. It's like you're born again."

"And do you want to born again?"

"Who wouldn't? Get to start over again. Fresh, new. A clean slate." He thought of Ellie than, her cough as she told him the answer to an oral exam. She snorted as he gave her a wink. "It's like everything, anything is possible."

"And you don't believe that now?"

"You can't change the past. As much as you might want to."

"And you have regrets?"

"Of course. Don't you?"

"Yes. I have regrets."

"What are they?"

Dr. Taylor considered him before answering. "I regret that I didn't travel enough when I was younger. I wanted to go to Europe, but never got the chance."

Craig rolled his eyes. "Europe is overrated."

Dr. Taylor chuckled. "Looking for something more juicy, eh?" Seeing Craig nod, she chuckled again. "Uh, I regret not having children. Or getting married."

"Why didn't you get married?"

"Like everything else, life got in the way." She took off her glasses, pinching her bridge. "We all have regrets, Craig. And it's natural to search for that 'numbness'. The complete emptiness of all emotion. It makes it easier to push the pain, the love, the feelings away."

"I know, but drugs aren't the answer."

"Yes, but that's not all. It's not that simple to just dismiss it all by being foolish as to use drugs to block out emotion." She uncrossed her legs, scooting her chair closer to him. "It has to start with what emotions you needed to be pushed away."

Craig tried to break her eye contact, but he couldn't. He knew that it wasn't that simple. That everything had an origin and that he would have to reveal that eventually. He finally broke it, looking at the clock and seeing that his hour was over. "I have to go."

"I know, Craig." She patted his knee again before writing something else down and ripping it out. "I want you to write at least seven pages worth of emotions you've felt today, and why. I know, it's silly, but you will find that writing these things down, even the most benign things, can help you get closer to the root of your problem."

Craig stood up and took the paper. He walked over to the door, looking at her words. "What if I already know the problem?"

"Than write that down. Whatever you're feeling, I want you to write it down. I'm not going to read it, remember? It's for you."

"What if I write nothing?"

"That's up to you. But might I say that venting is the best thing to do when you need something out. It's like your beloved 'numbness'. If you get them out, you have nothing to hold on to. I think the real question is: are you ready to let them go?"

Craig looked at her, not saying a word. He considered her words and opened the door. "See you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow, Craig." She left him with one final smile before disappearing behind her white door.

* * *

><p>Craig meandered through the halls, them being more spacious and hallow from the previous hour as one or two patients filtered in and out of the corridors. Craig found his way back to the library, walking inside and gracefully grazing the binds of the books on the small shelves. There might have been only 1000 books in the entire room, but they were plenty. He pulled one down at random, taking it to a nearby table when he noticed it was already occupied. "Could I -"<p>

The bespectacled boy looked up only momentarily before nodding. "Sure." He pulled his pile of books closer to him as Craig joined him at the table.

Craig gestured to the pile. "Anything good?"

"I suppose." The boy shrugged. "The collection isn't up to par of my own, but beggars can't be choosers."

"Yeah, right."

"I haven't seen you here before."

"Yeah, I got checked in a couple of weeks ago, but I was in the infirmary for most of that."

"Overdose?"

"Wicked bad withdraws."

"Ah." The boy pulled the book closer again, continuing his reading. "I was catatonic when they brought me here."

"Really?" Craig was taken aback by the bluntness of the small person. "What happened?"

"I attempted suicide. It didn't work."

"Oh."

"Yeah, my mother found me in my closet and she freaked out and once I came to, she threw me in here. I was only catatonic because 'I refused to allow the reality of my condition effect me'. Which in other words means I was pissed off I was still alive."

"Oh."

The boy pulled the book away, meeting Craig's eyes. "I'm not so upset anymore. If you're worried or anything."

"Oh, good."

"Yeah, I'm over it, really. I mean, it's an extraordinary thing, being that close to death, seeing it and the realness of it all."

Craig, despite his better judgment, leaned over with curiosity. "What did it feel like?"

The boy thought for a moment, before answering. "Numbness." He nodded, thinking harder. "Yeah, it was like knowing nothing, anything could have prepared you for it. I thought I would be scared, but for a moment, there was this emptiness, like the world was washed away. Like everything was missing and present, all at the same time."

Overwhelmed by emotion, Craig stood up. "I think I'd better go."

"Oh." The boy looked disappointed, nodding. "Yeah, I have the tendency of doing that."

"No, it's not like that. I just have a group meeting in a bit and I wanted to clean up first."

"Right." The boy waved. "Maybe I'll see you at lunch."

"Yeah, see ya." Craig raced through the library, dropping his book at a nearby cart and dashing through the hallways until he got into the safe confines of his room. Breathing a sigh of relief that Mikey wasn't there, he pulled out his composition book that was given to him on his first day, and withdrew a pen from a cup. Without preamble, he began to scribble random thoughts, anything that his fingers would curve and thrash. Before long, two pages were filled in. He felt inspiration for the first time in weeks, the pure energy of thought took over his senses. It didn't occur to him that time had been passing, that he was late for his meeting or would miss seeing the boy at lunch that day. Only thing that concerned him, the only thing that mattered was the pen in his hand and the words that illustrated his pages.

* * *

><p><em>More to come...<em>


	3. I'm On Your Side

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi. I promise.**_

_A/N: Yeah… I haven't been on this site in a few years, outside of the very limited amount of writers, well, one writer that I still read from. But I might be here for a while. I'm currently unemployed while I'm trying to get ready for graduate school, so I'll be here for a few, weeks, maybe, trying to finish up a few stories. This one was on the top of my list, since I think it has the most potential. Anyway, as ever, if you like what you read, please shoot me a review._

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><p>"Shit." He stuck his thumb in his mouth, looking and quietly panicking as several droplets of blood sprinkled over the pages of his worn composition notebook. He sucked on the small paper cut, swearing as he jumped up from his bed, looking for something to wrap up the wound. "Fuck."<p>

"What the hell did you do?" Mikey smirked as came up behind Craig, grabbing the first aid kit. "Break a nail?"

"Fuck off." Craig was always slightly squeamish around blood, having drawn more of it than he was willing to admit around the present company, but he needlessly combed through the container, snatching whatever he could. "No alcohol wipes?"

"Has alcohol in it. The best thing we got is iodine, but that shit is worse than anything you might have managed to do to yourself."

"Fair enough." Craig pulled out a bandage, wrapping it around his thumb, tossing the wrapper behind him and handing the box back to Mikey. "Thanks."

"Sure." Mikey watched as Craig resumed his previous position, at the head of his bed, his feet perched on the edge of his adjacent desk, enraptured in his journal, uncaring of anything past his reachable proximity. "Well, nice talking to you as always." With that, he scoffed as he grabbed his jacket, leaving Craig to his own devices.

Craig looked up as the door shut, perplexed of the room's emptiness again. He had managed to completely alienate Mikey and the majority of his fellow patients over the past few weeks, likening it to his first few weeks at Degrassi. Back then, it was always his camera that provided the shield, another layer to protect him from other's judging eyes. Now, he found a kindred spirit with the written word, scribbling everything he ever thought out or wanted to think within its pages. Looking at the clock, he noticed it was nearly eleven. Grabbing his shoes, he stuffed his notebook in his back pocket and left his room without another glance, walking with purpose toward the library.

* * *

><p>"I didn't know they had Faulkner here?"<p>

"They don't. My mom brought this for me, as well as a few others on her last visit." Dylan handed him the book. "Have you read this one?"

"No, but an old friend used to mention him a lot." Handing it back, he thought of Ellie again, like he always would. Annoyed, he shook his head before he lingered too long on her freckles that were as clear as they ever were in his memory.

"I think you'd like him. He's American, but he writes like no one else. He's my favorite."

"I don't know if I have a favorite."

"What did you used to read? You know, when you weren't doing other stuff."

"I don't know. I was reading a lot of philosophy books for a while."

"Stoner."

"Shut up." Craig and Dylan chuckled until the library attendant hushed them. Craig rolled his eyes, looking at his notebook again before clearing his throat. "Hey, um. How old are you?"

"Why? You trying to fix me up with someone?"

"Didn't think you would mind?" Craig smirked, but resumed his line of questioning. "Seriously, you can't be older than fifteen."

"I'm twenty."

"What?"

"Yeah, I don't look like it." Dylan, standing no taller than five feet and a quarter, sat up in his chair, leaning over. "I have Turner's Syndrome."

"What's that?"

"Are you seriously only looks?" Dylan scoffed. "It's a genetic disorder. It's basically a shitty disease where I look like a hairless cat, my gonads won't develop more than any kid in puberty, and I might make it to see thirty-five."

"Shit. I'm sorry."

"And so it goes." Dylan adjusted his glasses. "But I'm smarter than most of the dickheads in here, which has to be good for something, right?"

"Yeah, I suppose." Craig was a bit reluctant to ask anything else, still stunned at the age revelation. "You're older than me."

"Yeah?"

"By a few months. I'll be twenty next year."

"Cool."

"Ha, yeah." Craig looked over the spine of Dylan's book. "What's it about?"

"Three siblings living in the south, one is mentally disabled. It's pretty grim. There's some incestuous elements too."

"Sounds hot."

"Only the very best, Mr. Manning." Dylan mimicked tipping a hat before disappearing behind his book again.

Craig watched on for a few more moments before a flicker of black past the corner of his eye. Following it, he noticed Cassie passing through the corridor, vanishing around a corner. Without a farewell, he left Dylan in the stacks of books and pursued Cassie, gaining distance before tapping her lightly on the shoulder. "Hey."

Spinning around, her mouth was shaped in a perfect "O". "Oh, hi."

"Haven't seen you in a couple of days. You okay?"

"Yeah, I was in the infirmary. Caught the flu."

"Yikes, sorry."

"Well, I'm all better now." Cassie pushed up her nose, sniffling. "See, no snot."

"Lovely." Disgusted, Craig turned. Feeling Cassie grip on his arm, he faced her again. "Seriously, good to see you though. Are you going to the meeting tonight?"

"Yeah, after dinner. You?"

"Yeah. I actually have afternoon session with Dr. Taylor in a few." He looked at the clock again, seeing he had five minutes to make it on time. "I should probably get going." He raised his hand, as Cassie gave him a high five. "Save me a seat?"

"Possibly. Grab me an extra jello?'

"Deal." He tapped his nose before racing off, trying his best not to run in the hall without running into an orderly.

As he passed through the identical vanilla walled halls, he reflected on the past month he had spent there. He was more concerned with the next day's events, Joey's visit. He had declined seeing him two weeks prior, due to his heavily fatigued appearance, but now, with another two weeks to gain enough confidence and actual development, he couldn't express his excitement. He had only really connected with Cassie and Dylan during his tenure, and he just began talking to Dr. Taylor more casually in the past few days. The hypnotism loosened his tongue quite a bit, but he was still severely mum about his life before Joey and Angie were in the picture or a certain redhead that starred in most of his dreams. Reaching her door at the end of a particularly long corridor, he knocked twice, seeing her inviting frame over the threshold. "Afternoon."

"Good afternoon, Craig. Please come in." She adjusted her glasses as Craig took his usual post at the end of her leather couch, his left leg shaking. "You doing okay?'

"Yeah, just a bit amped up."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, Joey is coming by tomorrow for a visit."

Dr. Taylor nodded approvingly. "That's wonderful. I'm sure you're thrilled to show him your progress."

"Totally." Craig rubbed his hands together, bobbing his head until he realized there weren't any words exchanged for several beats. "So, how are you?"

"I'm well. Thanks for asking."

"Sure." He leaned back, stretching his arm over the back of the sofa. "How's the missus?"

Dr. Taylor chuckled. "He's fine." She flipped over a new sheet as she crossed her legs. "So, are you ready to begin?"

"Can we just talk a little more before you put me under?"

"What do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know. Maybe something other than what happened a hundred years ago."

"Well, that's why you're here, Craig. It might seem like ancient history to you, but this all new for me. And rather you like it or not, you're condition is still in its infancy, even if you haven't used in-"

"Twenty-seven days."

"Exactly. And we both know that isn't a very long time at all." She took off her glasses, leaning closer to Craig. "It's difficult, I know. But it's important to know the root of your drug usage, why you have turned to it, so you can prevent it from happening again."

"I know why I did it. I was sad and angry and confused and I didn't want to feel that way anymore, so I thought, 'Hey, that sounds like a fun way to spend an afternoon'."

Sighing exasperatedly, Dr. Taylor put her glasses back on. "Craig, it's imperative that you talk this out."

"Why? So there's one more person that knows how royally fucked I am?"

"No, of course not. You know that I don't judge you or ever would." She closed her notepad with a furrowed brow. "I'm only trying to gain your trust. I would never sacrifice that for my own amusement."

"I just don't understand why you can't ask me straight out."

"Because hypnotherapy is the best method for you at the moment, I promise." She reached out to him, patting his knee. "I wouldn't do anything to intentionally hurt you."

Craig leaned back further into the couch, easing his tension in his shoulders. "Sorry."

"Think nothing of it." Readjusting her glasses for the umpteenth time, she settled back into her chair, opening up her notepad. "Are you ready?"

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he nodded. "Yes."

"Okay, start counting backwards from one hundred."

* * *

><p>Grabbing two bowls of jello, he looked over the cafeteria, looking for the mop of black until he spotted it across the room, pulling out a chair across from her. "Here."<p>

"Thanks." She grabbed it feverishly, humming to herself as she started into it without preamble. "How was your session?"

"The usual repressed memories of yesteryear." He started picking at his food, not particularly interested in getting into the inevitable dull conversation of whatever messed up his adolescence. "How was yours?"

"I cried, apparently."

"Really?"

"Yeah. But I usually cry whenever we do hyno. I practically have my own box of tissues in his office."

"Sorry."

"Whatever. At least they're not throwing Jesus into the mix." She rolled her eyes. "One place I went to was like being at a constant communion. Basically anything you did was a sin and you were praying from the moment your feet touched the floor in your bedroom until it was back that evening. I swear, taking a shit required at least three 'Hail Marys'."

"Jesus." Craig and Cassie both snorted, digging further into their meals. "I guess I should count my blessings."

"Church."

They both shared another laugh when Craig noticed Mikey and one of his shadows approaching them. "Hey man."

"Hey yourself." Mikey nudged his companion, motioning to Craig's hand. "Your boo-boo all better?"

"Yeah, wanna kiss it and make it all better?" He reached out for Mikey, when he swatted it away, joining the table. "Sorry I left the room a wreck."

Mikey snorted, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, what the hell?" He nudged Cassie, who was unimpressed with their latest guest. "He tore up the entire plaace trying to find a Hello Kitty bandage."

"Whatever man." He looked over at Mikey's friend, feeling slightly ashamed for never catching his name, even though they had been introduced more than once. "Anyway, I'll help you clean up before lights out."

"Yeah, sure." Mikey looked past Craig, over at another table. "Fuck me."

Craig turned around, catching a glimpse at an attractive woman at a table a few rows over. Shrugging his shoulders, he finished eating. "You into her?"

"Rather be in her, if you know what I mean." Disgusting Cassie, she left the table in a huff, leaving Mikey to finish her mashed potatoes. "You think you can get her to talk to me?"

"Who, Cassie? Not a chance."

"No, not that little pixie chick. Her." He nodded over to the previous woman, her long blonde hair pulled into a loose French braid. "She's here for heroin. Got here a few days ago." He continued to undress her with her eyes. "She's unbelievable."

Craig made another casual glance over to her, giving her the once over before nodded. "Yeah, she's hot. So what?"

"Easy for you to say. She'd be on her back in ten minutes alone with you." He flanked Craig's carton of milk, scoffing. "I have to trick someone like that to even look at me."

"Well, good luck." Craig grabbed his and Cassie's tray, tossing them into the nearest trash can. As he made his way to the exit, he noticed the blonde woman looking his way, smiling softly. Returning one of his own, he continued on, heading toward his evening group meeting. Racing down the stairs, he stumbled upon something shiny on the floor. Picking it up, he found a clip-on ID keycard, belonging to one of the third floor orderlies, Blake. Before he could think of returning it, he tucked it into his pocket for safe keeping, making his way to the room.

Sliding into an empty chair next to Cassie, he whispered in her ear. "In the mood for an adventure?"

"What?"

"Just curious if you want to get into some trouble tonight, that's all."

Her interest visibly piqued, she faced him. "What kind of trouble?"

Craig looked around before pulling out the ID from his pocket. "This kind."

Cassie grabbed it. "Where'd you get that?!"

Snatching it back and stuffing it in his pocket again, he chucked in a hushed tone. "Don't worry about where I got it. Now, are you interested in having a most excellent adventure, Bill?"

"As long as there's some bodacious babes, Ted." She snorted, nudging him hard in the ribs. "You're gonna get in so much trouble."

"Correction: _we_ are gonna get in so much trouble." He stretched his legs out more. "Don't act like you're not excited."

"What's the game plan? We can't exactly get away from our rooms. They lock us in."

"Well, that's what the key card is for. When they do their 2 am check, I can make sure the door doesn't lock all the way."

"How?"

"I'll figure it out. Just be ready for me to get you. I'll be able to open your door with this." He patted it again, like a precious item it was.

"But how will we know if they checked?"

"We'll have a signal. I'll come to your door and if they haven't come yet, you knock once back. If they do, you knock twice. And then I'll bust you out."

"But what if we get caught?"

"Stop being such a naysayer before I ask someone else to join me."

"Fine." Cassie straightened up in her chair as she noticed someone sitting closer to them. "It's on."

"Sweet." He nudged her, nodding approvingly. "It'll be great."

"Whatever." Crossing her arms, they noticed the rest of the group had assembled. "Now I just have to wait."

"There's always a catch."

* * *

><p>"I think I'm in love."<p>

Craig looked up from his notebook, watching as Mikey plopped on his own bed. "What are you on about?"

"Rochelle." Mikey smirked slightly, saying again, with more conviction. "Ro-chelle. I think it's French."

"Oui."

"She's lovely."

"Yeah, I guess."

"What would you know, you only hang around that weird girl with those crazy eyes."

"I thought you said she was hot?"

"Well, that was before… Rochelle."

"Keep it in your pants, man. This isn't high school. We're in rehab. She's a heroin addict, with some serious issues."

"Pretty sure that's exactly how high school was. Some beautiful, damaged girl with skeletons in her closet. Sounds like half of my graduation class."

"Touché." Craig continued to scribble in his notebook, shaking his head. "Are you going ask her out to the prom?"

"Blow me." Mikey grabbed his towel, slamming the bathroom door behind him.

Craig chuckled to himself, thinking about the pretty blond girl and Cassie, whom he thought were both very pretty, but like a heavy lead ball slamming into his stomach, he was reminded of another very pretty, very lovely girl. "Fuck."

* * *

><p>Like clockwork, the door opened, shining light into the room. Craig spent the better part of the evening devising a way to get out of the room after the first overnight check, knowing it was near impossible to exit his room in the middle of the night. Realizing he had to stop from the door from locking, he finally figured out how. He found a small bit of plastic from an old bookmark that he filed down, not having any scissors to cut it in half. He had planned it get out of bed right when the orderly would come, head to the bathroom, and while he was checking on Mikey, he would slip the piece of plastic on the door latch, so it would completely lock, but still close. Proud of his plan, he slept for a few hours until the moment arrived, jumping out of bed.<p>

"Get back to bed!"

"I have to pee."

The orderly scoffed. "Fine, whatever." He watched as Craig went past him before turning to look over at Mikey's side of the room, passing a small wall, just enough room for him to be in his blind spot, taking full advantage. Without delay, Craig affixed the small piece in the door, sliding it the spot, with enough time to make sure it wouldn't fall out. Poking it for its firmness, he raced into the bathroom, shutting himself in.

After another beat, the door closed. He waited another fifteen minutes before trying to open the door. Once it opened without any issue, he waited about ten minutes before he ventured down the hall, racing through the corridors, avoiding all the surveillance cameras. Staying in the shadows wherever he could, making his best effort to stay away from any bright lights, he finally made it over to Cassie's building, knocking on her door.

After hearing her two knocks, he promptly opened her door with the keycard, seeing her smiling face. "I can't believe-"

Putting his finger over her mouth, he grabbed her hand, pulling her out and shutting the door as quietly as they could. Still holding her hand, he pulled her down the hall, turning into an office. Finally alone, they laughed quietly.

"I can't believe you got me out."

"I can't believe I got out."

"How'd you do it?"

"I gotta keep that to myself; can't have everybody breaking out. It'll be anarchy." He caught his breath before grabbing Cassie's hand again. "You hungry?"

* * *

><p>"Shit, it's dripping." Cassie licked her hand as she passed the carton of chocolate ice cream over to Craig, the side of it leaking slightly.<p>

"No problem." He sucked at the corner of it, causing Cassie to laugh again. "What?"

"Nothing, just… Thanks."

"For what?"

"For this. I mean, this is the best time I've had in years."

"Don't get out much?"

"Not really, no." Cassie turned sullen suddenly, looking over the edge of the building, seeing the darkened buildings in front of her. They were sitting on the roof of one of the administration buildings, eating stolen ice cream in May. Despite the occasion chill, it was by far the most pleasant weather for the stargazing. "It's hard to go out without falling off the bandwagon."

"Yeah."

"This is my third time. Not being here, but being put into something like this. I think it might be my last."

"That's a good thing, right?"

"Well, I mean, my parents aren't going to pay for me to be in a place again. They've pretty much told me they're fed up with me and my shit."

"Well, they have government facilities."

"They're all shit, trust me." She snatched the carton of ice cream, taking another spoonful, closing her eyes. Once she finished, she looked up at Craig. "You're so green."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you seem so new to all of this. I know you're here for coke, but how long were you on it before you got caught?"

"Six months."

"Child's play."

"Maybe for you, but I'm not new to all of this."

"Yeah?"

"I'm bipolar." Craig looked over at her for a reaction.

"So am I."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Cassie curled her legs up, her knees under her chin. "I was diagnosed when I was fifteen."

"Sixteen."

"It sucks."

"Yup." Craig took another spoonful of ice cream, suddenly not enjoying it as much. "Did you ever go off your meds?"

"All the time. It's what put me in rehab in the first place." She shrugged, looking past the brick buildings. "My mother couldn't cope with having her 'little princess' not be the Wellesley girl like she was. I had a panic attack when I was taking entrance exams and I went off my meds for a few weeks. The minute she found out, she threw me in a place in British Columbia that makes this place look like Caesar's Palace."

"Wow."

"Yeah." Cassie finished off the last of the ice cream, tossing it aside. "It wasn't until college that I started with the heroin."

"How?"

"My boyfriend." She rolled her eyes. "Present tense."

"You're still with him."

"We never actually broke up. I mean, I haven't been exactly faithful to him, but he still comes and sees me whenever he can. He was here last week when I was sick."

"He got you hooked?"

"You make it sound like he turned me out or something." She crossed her arms, standing up and leaning against a chimney. "It started off as a goof, you know. I mean, I was at York. My dad's an alum and pulled some strings. Anyway, Todd gave me some once after I had a rough night. It just started as something to put me to sleep since the pills keep me up. After a while, I couldn't go to sleep without a hit or leave the house, or get out of bed. Or eat. Within a semester, I had sold off most of my belongings and some of my roommate's stuff to keep it up. That was two years ago."

"I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"I don't know. You just seem like a good person."

"Maybe. I guess I'm just prone to be unhappy to some degree." She nudged him. "I guess you can understand that."

"Yeah."

"What about you?"

"What?"

"What's your story? And don't tell me that shitty story about you doing coke in some dressing room. That sounded something straight out of a Neil Young bio."

Craig nudged her back, leaning close to the chimney. "Well, let's see. I went off my meds three years ago, proposed to my then-girlfriend before we headed to her gay dad's wedding, but not before I took her v-card. Oh yeah, also beat my stepdad, who's coming here tomorrow, senseless. Hmm, dropped out of high school to pursue a music career, started smoking pot before dropping some acid and then started doing coke. I really liked coke, since I went from doing it once or twice before a show to doing it nearly every few hours. Let's see, then I came back to my hometown, kissed my best friend that I've loved since I can remember, professing said love while trying to get my coke back from her and overdosed backstage before a concert, leaving home in disgrace." He folded his arms, looking over at Cassie. "Yeah, think that pretty much covers it."

"Jeez, you sound like a teen soap."

"Pretty much." He shook his head, before thinking about how much he related to Cassie's story. "We're kinda fucked, aren't we?"

"Basically." She walked closer to him, given him a hug. They held each other, enjoying the closeness before she looked up at him. "We should probably break up this ice cream social."

"Yeah, don't need to get into too much trouble." They held hands as they swiftly climbed down the stairs, entering Cassie's floor. "Wanna do this again some time?"

"Totally." She leaned in, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before pulling him toward her room. With one quick swipe of the card, she was in her room, closing the door quietly behind her.

As Craig made his way to his room, he thought about Cassie's story as a steady pang gathered in the pit of his stomach. By the time he arrived, he made a beeline to his desk, not caring if he awakened Mikey. While he wanted be alert and perky for his visit with Joey in a few hours, he knew if he didn't get this out now, he never would.

Grabbing a pen, he took a deep breath before scribbling the first two words: _Dear Manny…_

* * *

><p><em>More to come… <em>


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